Novo Oymyakon
by Wendigo E17
Summary: "Novo Oymyakon was once a colony world of the UEG. A frozen and desolate planet that the natives and original settlers cling to. It is their world, and they don't want anyone else taking it from them. No surprise that it was the birthground of an insurrection. An insurrection that is bringing ruin to the little everyone here has." Rated M for explicit language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a heads up for the story, anything said with** ** _« »_** **quotation marks that are italicised are in Oymyakonian. Regular quotation marks, (" ") are English.**

* * *

 _ **Novosky District, Khvostovgrad, Novo Oymyakon...**_

A loud explosion rocked overhead, followed by the staccato of gunfire—the sounds of war easily breaking through the beating winds of the incoming blizzard. A group of three pressed through the rubble scattering the streets, stepping over a line of bodies which had been placed along the line of the street. One member of the group stopped, looking over the body as he quickly looked for the cause of their deaths: spotting that only one of two were ended possibly killed by bullet wounds. He really couldn't tell anymore, as all the dead bodies appeared completely frostbitten from head to toe.

A second member of the trio turned around, spotting the first had stopped walking as he waved aggressively at the one who had stopped before announcing over the sounds of the snow and the battle: _«Let us move, Educated Shit!»_

The first turned back towards the other two, as now the third one has stopped. He knew his title very well, 'Educated Shit.' It was meant to be a friendly name, at least the friendliest name possible between his group of friends. They after all considered his studies a complete waste of time, and would have rather had him work full time at _The Romanov._

 ** _The Romanov_**.

How long ago was it that he served his last drink at the bar, how long since he last insulted his friend over a card game, how long since he last threw an ice bastard out the door?

Five? Seven?

No, it was much higher. Nine. Nine months since he had a drink over cards, before he threw an ice bastard out for the last time. Nine months since life last seemed normal. Nine months before the UNSC was first dispatched to oppress and keep it's control over this ice planet: Novo Oymyakon.

 _«Mykola, get your ass moving! We can pick out bodies for you later!»_ The second called out again.

Mykola shook his head, before yelling, _«Vadim... I saw you checking out that babushka earlier, you fuck!»_

 _«You see shit!»_ Vadim called out as he weighed the rifle in his hands. The third one then called out: _«You two fucks, shut it! We need to move before the Fascists find us!»_

 _«Then tell Mykola to stop being a shit!_ » Vadim cried out.

 _«Stop being a shit, Mykola!»_ The third called out, before turning on a heel to continue their walk down the street.

Mykola shook his head, walking along until he reached Vadim's side—as he then turned towards his comrade and said: _«Shut the fuck up!»_

Vadim shrugged, adjusting his thermal mask over his face as he exhaled crystallised air. Mykola took the side next to Vadim, as the three continued down the street. More bodies began to line the street, slowly being trapped by the snow that was now pouring from the sky. The group soon turned a sharp corner into an alley, as they found the remains of a UNSC branded M864 A vehicle. There were a line of crates in the back of the Warthog, lined with the label: **HAZARDOUS GAS.**

In front of the vehicle, was the huddled person of a UNSC marine, trying to keep warm with the fire that had taken hold of the front engine. A shot rang out in the alleyway, as Mykola snapped back to find Vadim was the one who fired the shot. Turning back to the body of the marine, whose head was now bleeding profusely onto the white snow. The Oymyakonian stepped forward, resting his rifle as he searched the marine's body before throwing up a hand in disappointment and frustration.

 _«Fucking nothing!»_ Vadim announced, standing back up before he kicked the body. _«Pig wasted everything!»_

 _«Shit.»_ Mykola added, turning around to look back outside the alleyway.

 _«Wasn't too far from Laika Metro entrance.»_ The third spoke again, _«Either they are getting fucking clever or they are just happening upon our outposts.»_

 _«So why should we give a fuck? Not like they will be able to navigate through them anyways, they are as thick as fucking rocks.»_ Vadim replied, trying to join the rest of the group.

 _«Don't you fucking remember what happened at the Tsar Metro?»_ Mykola asked, pushing Vadim back, _«They don't need to find their way through the Metro. They will just fucking gas us out!»_

 _«Thanks for reminding us, Educated Shit.»_ Vadim said, pushing Mykola's arm away.

The third turned around to let Vadim pass by, looking sternly at Mykola as he let his fellow Oymyakonian pass by. Vadim stepped carelessly through the snow, mostly because the shit thought nothing could touch him. Mykola always thought Vadim was an idiot, doing stupid shit that would easily get him and others killed. But he was the good kind of idiot. He was too thick to let anything get to him, and he would be too stupid to realise if someone dropped a hammer over his head.

What would be the chance anything would happen to the fuck out here? Next to nothing. Blizzard removed the visibility for most marksmen, and no one was stupid enough except Vadim to wander down the middle of the street pointlessly. No UNSC squadron was going to wander down the streets without any sort of navigational support, and besides—there was nothing in the Novosky District...

There was nothing...

Except the Laika Metro, the outpost for the Novo Oymyakon Insurrection. Why the fuck would the UNSC send a Warthog with gas canisters down into the Novosky District unless they were intentionally looking for a Metro? No reason, no fucking reason. Mykola was about to speak, but the sound of an Anti-Matériel did the speaking for them. The third insurrectionist cried in pain, or at least tried to as the blood that was pouring from his left chest crystallised and he fell to the snow.

 _«Move!»_ Mykola cried the obvious, starting to run as he seized Vadim by the shoulder and pushed the Insurrectionist behind cover. Vadim shook off Mykola's hand, peering over to where the third had fallen. Vadim shook his head, before crying: _«They killed Sergey!»_

Vadim tried to push past Mykola, but was stopped by him. Vadim looked down at Mykola, trying to find a reason for what he was doing before Mykola spoke for himself: _«We do not have time for this! We need to get to Laika before they fucking gas everyone down there!»_

Vadim shook his head again, turning on a heel before he slowly trudged down the alleyway, muttering: _«Shit!»_ over and over again. Mykola shoved Vadim forward, jogging down the alleyway as soon Vadim joined right behind him. There was yelling in the distance, followed by the staccato of gunfire. A mix of both English and Oymyakonian: the language that combined all the base Slavic languages from Earth, making it incredibly easy for most who speak any of the languages to pick up.

The two rejoined a street, as they looked across a tight plaza that placed the entrance to the Laika Metro in the centre of two car lanes. As they tried to make their way across, they were met by gunfire from both the Metro and further down the street. The snow storm really moved in now, dramatically reducing visibility as Mykola narrowly dodged a bullet sailing from the Metro.

 _«Watch where you are fucking shooting!»_ Mykola cried, as the one who shot at him lowered his weapon to allow Mykola and Vadim to the stairway down to the entrance of the Laika Metro. As they stepped down the stairs, one of the insurrectionists raised a M6D Magnum and aimed at the two—ignoring the fact they were wearing insurrectionist uniform.

 _«Where does the Snow Valley lie?»_ The insurrectionist asked, presenting them with a code that they commonly used to distinguished between them and disguised UNSC troopers. It was pretty good at discovering who was who, given that many UNSC troopers didn't know a single thing about Novo Oymyakon.

 _«How the fuck should I know? No one can see here anyways!»_ Vadim replied, as the insurrectionist lowered the Magnum, before speaking over the gunfire: _«They just fucking showed up! Started shooting at us!»_

 _«Yes we see that! We need inside this facility to evacuate!»_ Mykola yelled over the gunfire, as bullets flew overhead. The insurrectionists crouched in response, yelling an assortment of foul words and insults.

 _«Evacuate?!»_

 _«Don't you fucking remember what happened at Tsar? The same thing is going to happen!»_

The insurrectionist slouched, looking back over into the white as he narrowly dodged a bullet. He shook his head, before opening the case to a digital keypad to type in the code to unlock the doors. _«I remember... everyone! Get the fuck inside!»_

The door slid open as the apparent lead insurrectionist head into the facility first, followed by Vadim and Mykola. The other three or so tried to file inside as well, the first managing to walk down the stairs down into the facility as the second and third were shot to death. Blood splattered across the walls, as their bodies rolled down the staircase. The lead insurrectionist closed the door, as the sound of bullets hitting metal was heard. The vents of the facility opened, as the red hot bars was revealed.

Everyone was hit by a blast of heat, as the four that survived yanked off their thermal masks and took their first breaths free from the masks. _«Damnit!»_ Vadim hissed, walking down into the facility as suddenly he was met by a line of rifles. Mykola raised his arms, yelling: _«Friendlies! Don't fucking shoot!»_

 _«Put down your weapons!»_ One from the line replied, as the lead yelled back: _«For no one!»_

The line of insurrectionists holding the rifles lowered them, as the incoming group was allowed down into the facility. Vadim and Mykola jogged, as the line of insurrectionists looked back at them. They passed the line of insurrectionists, one which tried to stop them as Vadim pushed her down to the ground.

 _«Everyone! Move!»_ Mykola cried, _«The Fascists are right at the fucking door! Gas! Gas!»_

Everyone in the chamber fell silent, as they looked between each other. Many of them ran to doors, either slamming on them or opening them as they yelled: _«Gas!»_

There was a pounding at the entrance, almost as if the UNSC was attempting a forced entry into the Metro. Mykola opened a door, looking at the inhabitants: a line of old or younger people, as he waved them out. _«Fucking move!»_ Mykola yelled, yanking on the arms of one of the children inside as he tossed him out to the main chambers. All of the ones inside the cramped room stood up, moving towards the door as suddenly the bashing on the front door stopped.

There was a ring of gunfire from the firing line of insurrectionists, as a body of a UNSC marine tripped down the steps and fell into the facility. Mykola looked back, as Vadim was already filing people through the maintenance way to the facility. There was a sudden hiss of gas, as a canister landed down at the feet of the firing line as a thick yellow gas emitted from them. Everyone at the front of the facility choked, falling to the floor as they rolled around in agony—continuing to fire.

 _«Educated Shit! Run!»_ Vadim yelled, waving Mykola over as he lowered his rifle to fire into the gas. There was a line of gunfire coming from within the yellow gas, firing at the insurrectionists trying to escape into the maintenance way. A child fell to the ground, having been shot in the chest. Mykola looked back, opening fire towards the UNSC as he one of the marines yell: "They are retreating!"

Mykola ran to the door Vadim was guarding, jumping over fallen bodies as another gas grenade was thrown into the Metro. As Mykola ran into the door, Vadim removed an explosive as he pressed it against the doorway and removed the detonator. The Oymyakonian closed the door, running along with Mykola before he turned back. There was the sound that the door was trying to open, as a marine yelled again: "Behind here!"

 _«Go to fucking hell!»_ Vadim yelled back, pulling the detonator trigger as the doorway exploded. Mykola was thrown forward in the explosion, hitting the solid metal ground of the facility as he rolled. Ringing was loud in his ear, as he tried to lift himself off the ground but failed. Suddenly he felt a movement from under his arms, being lifted as he was pulled more into the maintenance way. Drifting.

Fading.

 ** _Remembering_**.

* * *

 ** _Nine months earlier..._** **The Romanov** **_Pub, Khvostovgrad, Novo Oymyakon..._**

 _«I am telling you, the Ice Bastards are all pieces of shit!»_

A card was smacked against the table, as everyone gathered around it looked off disappointed in some direction as the one who smacked the card collected the pile of Uryurov's, the native currency of Novo Oymyakon. One muttered under their breath, picking up a bottle in his left hand. _«They aren't the only piece of shit around here...»_

 _«Anyways, one comes to take an apartment with me.»_ The girl continued, _«Paid the necessary amount of Uryurov's. I gave them the key and gave them the number. Not even a minute later they come back down to complain! I asked them what was the matter. They complained about not having a private toilet room, not having a bed and especially about the fucking Waypoint delivery system!»_

 _«Did they have a sink?»_ Vadim asked, collecting empty bottles from the table as he placed them on the drink counter.

 _«Of course!»_ The girl replied.

 _«Then tell them to shit in the sink!»_ Vadim replied, as a collection of people around the table laughed lightly. _«Who the fuck wants Waypoint anyways, it would be faster for me to run across space to deliver a hand written letter to that bitch on Earth!»_

 _«You saying you would actually put in the effort to learn to write, Vadim?»_ Mykola asked, leaning into the table. _«Must have some pretty feelings for the bitch!»_

People around the table slammed their fists, making sounds as they turned back to Vadim. The Oymyakonian lowered his smile, as he replied: _«It would more or less be me wiping my ass and slapping them with my shit! What the fuck is the problem with the UEG anyways? We tell them we don't want anymore Ice Bastards to come, we are starting to run out of living space—and suddenly they think it a good idea to allow more in!»_

Everyone fell silent, looking down at the base of the table as they quietly thought about the whole situation. Mykola lifted his bottle, drinking from it before he placed it down on the table grudgingly. He knew very well what Vadim meant, and in fact it pissed him off just as much as everyone else. The UEG kept on telling the Oymyakonian's that they needed to 'be patient,' or that the Ice Bastards were 'helping' them develop the planet's economy. It didn't help that UEG representatives forced their way onto the planet, making demands from the people and tried to advertise the order of the UEG.

Accept their currency, accept their social and political system, develop the mining operations on Novo Oymyakon to become a more productive member of the UEG! Mykola thought it was a bunch of bullshit anyways, as he looked back up to Vadim as he spoke: _«They need to start fucking listening to us!»_

 _«Yes? And what are you going to do about it, Educated Shit? You are too busy learning their language to do anything! You look like you want to join them!»_ Vadim shot back, slapping Mykola on the shoulder as everyone laughed.

 _«Yes but what happens when we run out of living space? There is only one place on this planet to live, and if we don't stop the flow where are our people going to go?»_ Mykola retorted.

 _«The fucking streets...»_ One muttered from the table, before turning to the girl: _«So if we don't want that, Alyona—time to throw any Ice Bastard you got onto the streets!»_

Alyona nodded her head, _«I'll start with that one fucking—»_

There was a sound at the door, as the heavy padded door swung open and a person stepped into the pub. Pulling his thermal mask off from his face, a red faced man stepped towards the bar, waving towards the group as he beat the snow off his heavy thermal jacket as he announced: "Private!"

Alyona leaned into the table, looking at everyone before whispering: _«There he is!»_

Vadim looked up, walking towards the bar as the man continued to beat off snow. The Oymyakonian looked straight at the man, before asking: _«You are one ugly fuck aren't you?»_

The man looked strangely at Vadim, as Vadim looked back to the group: _«He doesn't speak Oymyakonian, take charge Educated Shit!»_

Mykola stood up from the table, approaching the bar as he looked up and down the man. The man finally pulled off his jacket, dropping the heavy thermal to the ground as he removed a pad from his pocket as he looked at it. He then looked up, before speaking: "Yah..."

"No need to try to speak Oymyakonskiy." Mykola said, looking up and down the man, " _Romanov_ is only place in Khvostovgrad that speaks English!"

"Every place should speak English," the man retorted, "you are after all part of the UEG! It's like everyone else here is too inept, you know?"

Mykola shook his head, looking up before he asked: "Where from?"

"Mars." The man replied proudly, as Mykola laughed: "So you are from some fucking inner colony shithole?"

"Not as bad as this fucking shithole." The man tried to say boldly.

"Just order a fucking drink." Mykola replied sternly, pressing his fists against the bar as the man looked at him in surprise. Mykola laughed, pulling up another bottle as he examined it, "Not used to our manners?"

"All your manners are rude!" The man replied, looking at the bottle oddly. "But I guess that is what I should expect from some refugee planet full of degenerates!"

Mykola looked up at the man, his face turning into a stern expression as the man shifted uncomfortably. "Then why fuck are you here?!" Mykola asked in a raised voice. All attention from the table turned towards the Oymyakonian and the man, as the man spoke up. "This is a planet full of resources! You aren't doing anything with it so everyone else is deciding to actually put it to use!"

"We didn't ask you to be here!" Mykola replied, "You come here to take planet from us! You make demands! Act intolerable! And you continue to come like fucking pests!"

The man shifted back towards the door, picking up his jacket as he tried to open the door. One of the Oymyakonian's from the table stood up and walked over to the door, blocking the path of the man. Vadim looked towards Mykola, _«What the fuck did he say?»_

 _«Called us fucking 'degenerates'! Said we were worthless and the planet shouldn't be ours!»_ Mykola replied, as he looked back to the man: "You don't want a drink?"

"Let me out of here!" The man replied, "Tell him to move!"

"You are getting a fucking drink!" Mykola replied, as other Oymyakonian's sprung from the table as they approached the man. The man struggled, yelling as the group grabbed his arms and forced him towards the bar. He kicked and cried, repeating: "Tell them to stop! Tell them to stop!"

Vadim shook his head, as Alyona stood up and approached the rest of the group. Mykola looked towards the man, as he handed the bottle to the Oymyakonian woman, as he looked at the man's face: "Lucky for you, your hostess has 'drink' for you!"

The man turned his head towards Alyona as his eyes widened in surprise, he continued to kick as he said: "No! Stop! Stop!"

 _«Give him a 'drink,' Alyona!»_ Mykola laughed, as she raised the bottle into the air and smashed it with power into the head of the man. He fell limp for a while, as his forehead began to bleed as he struggled even more and continued to cry. Vadim kicked him in the ribs as a sharp snap was heard, as everyone else joined in to beat the man.

He rolled around weakly on the floor, crying as the beating continued relentlessly. Eventually, Mykola pushed away from the rest of the group as he yelled: _«Stop!»_

 _«What is the matter, you fucking soft?»_ Vadim asked, as Mykola shoved him away, _«No, but even our own police are above us killing sacks of shit like this!»_

The group muttered, breaking their circle as the man began to crawl away—crying as he used the bar to pull himself to his feet as he looked back at Mykola and yelled: "I'll have you all arrested! When the UEG hears about this—"

Mykola laughed, "Go ahead! Tell UEG! They don't listen anyone anyways! Now get the fuck out!"

As the man reached for his thermal mask, one of the Oymyakonian's stepped on it and shattered it—grabbing the man again as he forced the man towards the door. The man screamed again, as a second Oymyakonian opened the padded door. With the effort of both, they tossed the man out into the ice and snow as they then slammed the padded door shut.

The entire pub fell silent, as everyone inside looked at each other. Mykola looked towards Vadim, as suddenly the entire group broke out cheering and laughing.

 _«Fuck Ice Bastards!»_ One of them cried, as everyone cheered in response.

Vadim laughed, _«That felt fucking good!»_

 _«End the UEG tyranny!»_ Someone else said, as suddenly everyone else joined in unison, chanting the phrase: _«End their Fascism! End their Fascism! End their Fascism!»_

As they were chanting it, for the first time in years Mykola felt his heart beat stronger and faster. It felt invigorating, it felt good. But most of all, it felt right. It felt like something that needed to be done. The Oymyakonian grabbed a bottle from the bar, tearing of the cap as he chugged it.

It was a drink to victory, as far as he was concerned.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading this chapter of my first Halo fiction! As always, if you feel it worthy, please follow or favourite! And also review whether positive or negative, it is greatly appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I would like to thank Somedude27 for the review he left! It means much for someone to leave a review, because then I know what I can do better in and what I am doing well in so far!**

 **Спасибо!**

* * *

 ** _A week later..._** **The Romanov** _ **Pub, Novo Oymyakon...**_

Mykola looked at the cards he was handed, tapping his fingers gently against the table as he then quietly glanced over the expressions of everyone else at the table. All flat faces, not a single gleam of life in any of them. Typical, given the group that always accompanied him at the table.

No one dared to fold, given the rules of the pub stated that if they did, it would mean they would buy everyone else a drink. It was worth losing only a few Uryurov's rather than paying 500 or so per drink.

Mykola looked down at his hand, four cards that were two 3's, an 8 and a 5. A terrible fucking hand. Idea of the game was to get doubles or triples, which could then be added to and even numbers or face cards. Odd numbers and jacks would subtract from the total. Whoever had the highest number at the end would win the hand. Mykola had a 9 total, not even breaking into the double digits.

Mykola laid his cards face down, looking at everyone else as most others did the same. Vadim pressed in his lot, 1480 Uryurov's. He looked at everyone else, before laughing and asking: _«What the hell is the matter with you! You all fucking pussies?»_

 _«Shut the fuck up!»_ Another player responded, as he pushed his Uryurov's into the centre of the table, a grand total of 2350 Uryurov's.

Vadim shook his head, flipping his cards up as he revealed the total he had: 22. The other player threw his hands up, showing his total as he had only 20. Everyone else flipped up their cards: a 14, a 12... Mykola's 9.

« _You are fucking terrible at this game, Educated Shit!»_ Vadim responded, picking up his bottle as he took a quick swig of it.

« _Shut the fuck up, this is a fucking game of luck!»_ Mykola replied, standing up from the table.

 _«Are you seriously going to fucking quit?»_ Vadim called out, _«You know the rule!»_

Everyone else at the table laughed, many of them yelling: _«Drink!»_ as they pushed their cards back in to Vadim. Mykola shook his head, looking towards Vadim before he replied: « _It is your money!»_

Mykola removed the roll of Uryurov's that he won from the game just an hour ago, as Vadim ducked his head and muttered to himself. Mykola approached the bar, placing the money down on the counter as he then jumped over it.

He didn't even know why he bothered to get drinks for anyone. Sure, it was locked inside the counter but everyone in the bar and the city knew the code to the fucking safe. Vadim probably didn't even give a shit if people took from it themselves without paying.

Eventually, the lock came undone and Mykola fetched the necessary amount of bottles to bring to the table as he walked around towards the group. As he handed out the drinks, there wad a rumble at the door. Everyone turned towards it instinctively, as the padded door eventually came undone and a group of three men in police attire stepped into the door.

Yellow chested suits with navy-blue arms and legs, wrapped around tightly with silver reflectors. Their thermal masks were coloured yellow as well, and had silver eyepieces. All three wore officer's hats, though only one had a red brimmed one. An assortment of badges decorated each one, as they all moved to remove their thermal masks. One, the lead officer by the coloured brim of the hat stepped forward.

He was much older than the other two officers, greying hair and black eyes. His skin was worn, adored with plenty of burn marks from thermal mask malfunctions. He looked directly at the group, stepping around as he looked down at the game.

He looked directly at the set of cards Mykola had, before he looked towards him—deducting from the empty seat that it was him. _«A fucking nine?»_

Mykola shook his head as the other two officers placed their thermal masks on the bar. _«I haven't seen a number like that for five years.»_ The senior officer said, _«Are you that same player?»_

The table laughed as Mykola muttered: _«It is a game of fucking luck!»_

 _«Officer Kuptov! Perhaps you will show our Educated Shit here how to play Shlyukha?»_ Vadim asked, as he accepted the four cards from Kuptov to place back into the deck.

 _«Not in this place.»_ Kuptov replied, _«This place is a shithole.»_

 _«A shithole I don't pay city fees for, but still keep together with the funds I get from games like this!»_ Vadim replied, opening the new bottle that was brought to him.

 _«Don't pride yourself too much on it, no one here fucking pays taxes. And I don't think anyone ever will.»_

Vadim laughed shortly with the rest of the table, as he looked towards Mykola: _«Get a drink for these three! Make yourself useful for once!»_

But Kuptov shook his hand, _«Unfortunately I am not here to have a drink from your tax-evading establishment, Vadim. You want to tell me what happened a week ago?»_

 _«Same thing that is happening right now._ » Vadim replied sharply. Kuptov leaned into the table, _«Cut the bullshit; because you, me and everyone here knows that isn't just what happened.»_

Vadim groaned, placing a hand over his face as he then said: _«Don't tell me this is about the Ice Bastard!»_

 _«Well it is. Because of you, this Ice Bastard went to a UEG establishment and filed a complaint. They came down with him to our department to process the complaint, so I took it in.»_

 _«What, you are going to arrest us?»_

 _«You didn't let me finish. So I listened to him, wrote down some fake names at a fake place. So the 'crime' happened, but at a place and with people that will never fucking exist.»_

 _«Exactly what I—»_ Vadim was interrupted by the raising of Kuptov's hand. The officer looked coldly at the Oymyakonian, before speaking slowly: _«But the UEG isn't happy about all of this.»_

 _«Naturally.»_ Vadim replied.

 _«Shut the fuck up and let me speak. The UEG told me that they are going to speak with the bastards up at Earth to make sure they get a detachment of UNSC soldiers sent here.»_

Everyone looked at Kuptov as he said this, the officer removing a black roll of paper and a tube of tobacco from his heavy coat. He slowly rolled up a cigar, motioning towards Mykola to bring him a lighter. Mykola fetched a metal-plated lighter, walking over to the table as he handed it to Kuptov. The officer nodded his head in thanks, before flicking the lighter on as he puffed on his cigar.

 _«You got to be fucking kidding me!»_ Mykola muttered, before he picked up an empty bottle from the table.

 _«They will be here in six hours, according to what the UEG had said... and they expect me to follow their command. The bastards have even established a_ temporary _state of martial law. To ensure the situation is_ safe and securable _. And when this placed becomes_ safe and secure _, they will come with even more miners.»_

 _«A slap right to the fucking face!»_ Someone from the table cried, _«Why the fuck do they listen to the Ice Bastards but not us? We are second-class or some shit on our own planet?»_

 _«Every establishment has been warned about this, and that they must get ready to make room for our incoming_ guests _.»_ Kuptov continued, _«I recommend you hold back from hell.»_

 _«Fuck no.»_ Vadim replied flatly, _«I am sick of disrespectful sons of bitches showing up. They are putting our people out in the fucking street because they are the_ priority _of the UEG. So we should fucking die so that they can fucking live?»_

 _«Me and my fellow officers share the same grievances.»_ Kuptov said, _«But the UEG is having none of it. So here is what I will do.»_

Kuptov took a puff of his cigar, bringing his chair further into the table. _«There is a lay-over period between the time the UNSC will touch down and by the time they will move into our department. We have to make_ room _for their equipment. So I need people to help clean it up.»_

Kuptov looked up at everyone around the table, _«We don't keep a register of our equipment because we never need to use it. The Oymyakonian's do a good enough job at abusing and brutalising each other—you should know this. But in the case that the UNSC overstay their welcome...»_

Everyone at the table looked at each other, as Mykola looked back to the two officers. They looked back at him, nodding their heads grimly. Kuptov stepped up from the table, taking the last puff of his cigar before he dropped it on the ground and stomped it out.

 _«You know where the station is. Be there if you want your weapons.»_ Kuptov finished, as he stepped towards the door.

 _«Well we will need a plan for if we do intend to remove the fuckers from this planet!»_ Mykola stated, as Kuptov looked toward him: _«You really are an Educated Shit. I know most of you know where I live. Pick out the brightest amongst yourselves and come when we retire for the night.»_

Kuptov stepped towards the door, before spotting the roll of Uryurov's that Mykola left on the table. The officer took the roll of money, pocketing it before he grabbed his thermal mask off the table and his officer's hat from the rack. He placed on the thermal mask and the hat, as the other two officers did the same thing.

Kuptov opened the padded door, before stepping outside in the snow. The last officer closed the door behind the three, as Mykola looked back at the table. Everyone was deathly silent, as eventually Vadim stepped up from the table and walked around to the bar. He placed his bottle on the counter, swearing silently as he looked back to the group.

 _«They shouldn't have fucking done it... We shouldn't have fucking done it!»_

 _«What the fuck do you mean?»_ Mykola asked.

 _«Well what the fuck do you think I mean, Mykola? Should have just poisoned the bastard and tossed him out in the fucking snow!»_ Vadim replied.

 _«We now have a fucking chance to take back what is ours!»_ Mykola said sharply, _«If we fucking pull us off and declare our retirement from the UEG, then what choice do they have?»_

 _«You think you can fight a UNSC trooper, Educated Shit?»_ Vadim asked, _«I mean, me and everyone else here can't fucking read for shit! Sure we can hit hard, and I am guessing we all know how to shoot a fucking gun, but how the hell do you expect us to survive?»_

 _«Then listen to what we fucking tell you to do and we will push them out!»_ Mykola replied, as Vadim yelled back: «So you are a fucking general now?»

Mykola fell silent, as Vadim shook his head. _«Mykola, I fucking hate you... you know that. But what are the majority of Oymyakonian's going to do the second they get a weapon and try to fight? Kill a fucking friendly because they screwed their wife or some shit! How are we going to survive?»_

 _«How well do you know the city?»_ Mykola asked as Vadim shrugged: _«Like the bitch I fucked last night, of course I know the city well! Can navigate it while drunk!»_

 _«And the UNSC?»_ Mykola then asked, as Vadim looked at him oddly. Suddenly Vadim smiled a bit, as he nodded his head: _«Yes, fucking yes! They don't!»_

 _«Doesn't need to be a suicide charge, doesn't even fucking need to be an entire army we assemble!»_ Mykola replied, _«Break them off during patrol and kill them or force them to surrender... we then gather the rest of the Ice Bastards...»_

 _«And do the fucking same!»_ Someone from the table announced, as Vadim looked back towards Mykola: _«Maybe you are a fucking general! Fuck! Alright then, we just need to head to the department station and supply as many people as fucking possible!»_

 _«And meet with Kuptov!»_ Another from the table spoke.

 _«And take our fucking planet back!»_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Been a long time since I've posted. No fear, I have returned. I'll be posting more often.**

* * *

 ** _Six hours later... The streets of Khvostovgrad, Novo Oymyakon..._**

Mykola sat on top of a sealed crate, as the transport he was inside rocked back and forth—as it tried to climb the snow and ice, and resist the snowstorm currently going on. The white light overhead flickered, as he looked towards the other people inside the back of the transport who also sat on top of similar crates.

Everyone inside sat with their arms folded as they tightened their posture. It was still fucking cold, even on the inside of the back of a somewhat heated transport. One of them still had their thermal mask on, trying to keep herself warm.

The transport eventually came to a stop, as Mykola could hear the doors outside the transport open and slam. He stood up, turning around to the sealed crate he sat on as he clipped on his thermal mask as he twisted the knob on the outside of the mask as he could immediately feel the warmth start beating against his face. Mykola then reached down, picking up the crate he sat on as he lifted it up.

As he stood back up, the doors to the back of the transport swung open as the snowstorm happening already started to beat into the interior of the vehicle. Ignoring the snow that was whipping against his body, Mykola stepped to the edge as someone outside reached up to receive the crate as Mykola handed it to him.

As he took the crate to turn and walk away, Mykola dropped to the ground as he walked forwards—following the man he just handed the crate to as he looked up towards the massive building, reading the label on the side: _Dshyeviy Transport Service._

As they approached the transport vehicle door, another man reached down to pull the door up as Mykola and the group he was heading in with stepped into the tight vehicle garage. There was a lane of four garage spaces, with petrol stations on either side as there was also a variety of tools next to every vehicle. Mykola looked down to a tire iron, spotting that it was covered in blood as he shook his head. Their was a small stairway that the man carrying the crate walked up, as another man carrying a M6G Magnum pistol opened the door for them.

As Mykola stepped into the building following the man carrying the crate, as he walked to a table and set down the crate as a line of individuals looked at the two. As more and more came in, they looked at the crates presented in a row as one of the individuals from the line reached down to the crates as they threw open the latches and opened them. As he was now in a heated room, Mykola turned off his thermal mask and removed it.

 _«Look at these fucking things!»_ The man said, _«Our police now are still the same fucking police our ancestors had!»_

Mykola looked into the crate, seeing a line of MA assault rifles, M-series rifles and shotguns, pistols, stun grenades and lethal grenades. The man removed what appeared to be a MA5B assault rifle, looking at the white and silver colouration meant for arctic conditions. A police officer nodded his head, removing a M60 shotgun as he pumped the weapon.

 _«We were expecting more fucking riots than our ancestors did.»_ The officer replied, _«But since you are all so fucking concentrated on killing each other than us, why the fuck should we care?»_

Most of the people inside the facility laughed, as they reached in for their own weapons. Mykola removed his own MA5B assault rifle, seeing that the ammunition counter was removed and where the top curve of the weapon used to be was cut clean so the top was completely flat.

 _«A lot of this is UNSC-graded,_ » one of them realised, _«so are you packing rubber-rounds or real fucking bullets?»_

The officer replied by pulling free an ammo box from one of the crates, forcing open the latch as he opened it to reveal the contents. He removed one round, tapping the metal tip of the bullet as he said: _«Real fucking bullets. Ones I hoped I would get to use more.»_

 _«Well the opportunity has finally come,»_ Mykola said, _«so fucking use them!»_

 _«I think we all fucking plan to.»_ The one woman from Mykola's transport said, _«Just hope it isn't Oymyakonian shooting Oymyakonian over fucking debts or some shit, though.»_

 _«Would give us plenty of excuse to kill fucking assholes, though.»_ A man retorted.

People laughed again, as from around the corner of a transport being repaired stepped around Kuptov—flanked by two police guards as he shook his head. He lit a cigar he had managed to roll up as he took out a lighter and started it, before saying: _«Save the celebratory killing of the fucking asshole until after we are done with our little insurrection, if you can all fucking manage.»_

 _«Thought we were going to meet at your place, Kuptov.»_ Mykola asked.

Kuptov shook his head, _«Don't have time. Plus, would rather not have any of my valuables stolen by any of you fucking shits. Better to be directly at the place of the stolen police weapons than to disengage and reengage elsewhere.»_

 _«I think my transport shop is the place of enough fucking crime, Kuptov. I don't need fucking conspiracy added to the list!»_ A man said sarcastically. It was Dmitry Peskor, the man who owned the Dshyeviy transport service, the weapons blackmarket, the drug trade and was just a typical fucking shit.

The police department didn't do a fucking thing about it, mostly because Dmitry paid them off to turn their head the other way. Not to mention, with his out of system contacts—he managed to make quite the collection of high-level lethals from other insurrectionist war zones. Sniper rifles, machine guns... possibly even a rocket launcher or two. Either way, Dmitry's criminal enterprise would be a vital asset to making the UNSC and UEG turn the other direction.

 _«I don't think you have a fucking thing to complain about, Dmitry. Especially since our UNSC deployment landed an hour ago.»_ Kuptov replied.

 _«Then shouldn't you be over there bending over for them?»_ Dmitry asked, as a few members of his enterprise laughed.

Kuptov tilted his head, _«No, but I imagine your fucking whore will do some time later tonight when she sees a real fucking man in one of these UNSC troopers. So shut your fucking mouth before I have your jaw removed, Dmitry.»_

Dmitry fell completely silent, as Kuptov took a puff of his cigar as he tapped off ash from it. He walked around the room as he stopped just over the weapons. _«As I have said, the UNSC deployment landed just an hour ago at Gavan'. A full 120 or so of them, armed with your typical assault rifles or submachine guns. A few warthogs as well, fitted for arctic conditions. All of them will be staying at the department station, taking up a few of our barracks.»_

 _«Are they there now?»_ Mykola asked.

Kuptov nodded his head, _«Yes, they are. And within the next hour they want me to report with all my officers to a briefing they are going to have their pretty-faced Commander: Grant Yjorjak give some a motivational fucking speech or some shit.»_

 _«So they are all there right now,»_ Dmitry said, _«so let us head there and clear them out already!»_

 _«Fucking predictable, Dmitry.»_ Kuptov said, _«No. It is fortified and easy to defend, at least for them. But since they are still setting up, and not exactly expecting us...»_

 _«Had an idea to remove those on patrol,»_ Mykola said, _«they are exposed... out all alone.»_

 _«Close, but still a terrible fucking idea.»_ Kuptov said, _«They still have ways to communicate, Mykola. Radios.»_

 _«We will want to get them while they are as separated as possible, though.»_ Mykola replied.

 _«No, I agree. But attacking random soldiers on patrol? They will be able to respond. What we need, is an element of surprise.»_

Kuptov stepped around, taking the last puff of his cigar as he dropped it to the ground and stepped on it to put it out.

 _«Do they have translators?»_ Someone else asked, as Kuptov nodded his head.

 _«They would be the first targets. Once we eliminate them, then we have our own. We can also keep in mind the second one of them are dead, we can then take their equipment.»_

 _«Why not suggest a translator meeting?»_ Mykola asked, _«Act as if we are just testing their ability to make sure they can fucking speak. Gets them all in one place and allows us to eliminate them easily. After this, they have no chance of fucking understanding us.»_

People around the room nodded their heads, as Kuptov replied: _«Yes, I am sure Yjorjak will agree to this. Seems like the one who wants to boast the readiness of his troops.»_

 _«And after we kill the fucking translators?»_ Dmitry asked, _«Then who do we kill?»_

 _«Yjorjak will be within my proximity at all times, possibly guarded. We want to eliminate the leadership as quick as possible. The police will be able to handle Yjorjak, especially if news of the shooting of every translator they have reach them. They would mass deploy their troops for a search then, and Yjorjak would likely stay behind with a few of his troopers. That is when we will kill him.»_ Kuptov said.

 _«And the other troopers?»_ Mykola asked.

 _«Then we have a hand on their radios and we have translators of our own. We can then proceed with your plan when they all spread out to try to identify the shooters.»_

 _«120 soldiers.»_ Someone else remarked.

Kuptov shook his head, _«And we have what, a population of 2.4 million that are all unhappy with the UEG? We will be fucking fine if we just get the thing rolling. But if you are terrified, hide under your fucking sink. Either way, I have a meeting to get going to. You know what you all need to do. Spread these weapons around, spread the word. Mykola, I will give you the responsibility to organise_ The Romanov _for a meet and greet with our UNSC troopers. Dmitry, Sergey, Vladimir, Alyona, Alexandr, Grigori and whoever the fuck else, organise for skirmishes and ambushes on UNSC patrols. I am guessing we have a day before Yjorjak sends any of his men out. Take advantage of the time you have, because if we fuck up now, we might all be executed for treason.»_

Kuptov motioned to every officer in the room, as they collected their thermal masks and officer's hats and followed their senior officer out of the room. Mykola then placed his MA5B back into the crate he was carrying earlier, closing it as most everyone else did with their equipment. Lifting it up, one man motioned to Mykola as he said: _«Come, Vovk! We need to get you to that shithole.»_

Mykola nodded his head, putting back on his thermal mask as he then picked up the crate and followed the man back into the cold. The man opened the back of his transport, allowing Mykola to step in and put down the crate as he sat back on top of it. The man swung the doors to the back closed, as Mykola looked up to the white light that suddenly turned on as the engine of the transport roared.

* * *

 _ **A hour later...**_ **The Romanov** **_Pub, Khvostovgrad, Novo Oymyakon..._**

 _«So you are fucking telling me that they going to send the fucking UNSC here, so that we can fucking shoot them?»_ Vadim asked loudly, as he took a bottle from the bar and opened it.

 _«Yes they fucking are.»_ Mykola replied, as Vadim threw his arms up in frustration and turned towards the wall.

 _«You are a fucking piece of work sometimes!»_

 _«What will they fucking expect?»_ Mykola asked, _«They just think it will be a fucking translation session!»_

 _«What am I supposed to do with the fucking blood on the floor afterwards?»_

 _«Keep it as a fucking decoration! The floor is crimson enough from every fight that fucking happens here!»_

Vadim shrugged, taking a drink from his bottle as he looked down at the floors of his pub. He then looked back up at Mykola, as he said: _«Well shit! Guess it doesn't fucking matter anyways!»_

Mykola placed a palm against his forehead, as Vadim laughed and said: « _I am just fucking with you! But seriously, why the fuck do the UNSC have to be here?»_

 _«Don't fucking ask me, ask Kuptov!»_

 _«Better not be about my fucking tax evasion...»_ Vadim replied, as he placed down the bottle and looked towards the crate that was left on the table Mykola was sitting at, _«So the weapons are for us?»_

 _«Yes, we are supposed to arm as many people as possible for this.»_ Mykola replied.

 _«Don't think we would be able to hide assault rifles all that well, Mykola.»_

 _«Hide them behind the fucking counter with whoever can handle them. We also have pistols people can hide on their bodies. The UNSC will have their translators come down and sit at a table, our_ volunteers _for our little translation game can hide pistols. After a certain time, have our riflemen pop up and fire at the troopers, and then our fucking people with the pistols can also open fire!»_

Vadim looked coldly at Mykola as he explained how they could manage to attack the troopers without them realising. The Oymyakonian shrugged after this said, as he picked up his bottle again and took another drink from it.

 _«Yeah, that fucking works.»_ Vadim said, _«But my fucking bar! My family fucking bar!_ »

 _«You inherited this shithole from your father who was murdered by your mother for fucking another woman while she fucked another man. I don't see how you manage to pull any fucking sentimental value from this place.»_

 _«It isn't about them fucking or being fucking killed, you Educated Shit.»_ Vadim replied, _«Just the fucking times I had, that I_ have _being in this place. With fuckers like you. When we could just fucking sit around and drink, play a card game, fuck with each other both literally and whatever the shit else there is. Can't even rent out the rooms anymore because they are all fucking smashed because of you shits.»_

 _«Still great rooms, though.»_ Mykola replied, as Vadim nodded his head.

 _«Just can't believe it has come down to fucking this! All this bullshit from the UEG to promote a_ better fucking future _for everyone here, while making it all fucking intolerable for everyone that was born here...»_ Vadim said, « _Don't even fucking understand why they do this to us, you know?»_

Mykola nodded his head, _«Take advantage of us for everything we got just because they fucking can. This is why we are doing this, Vadim! So we can get them to fuck off!»_

 _«Yes, I fucking know.»_ Vadim said, _«But if Alyona is fucking killed or this place is fucking destroyed, what the fuck do I have left?»_

 _«The fucking snow, Vadim.»_ Mykola replied.

 _«Fuck you too.»_ Vadim replied, taking the last swig of his bottle. _«Well, I'm going to fuck off and sleep while I still fucking can. Get the fuck out, if you can.»_

Mykola stood up from his table, collecting his thermal mask as he responded to Vadim by giving him the middle finger. Vadim shot back with the same gesture, as Mykola attached his thermal mask, opening the padded door before stepping out and slamming it shut.

He looked down the completely dark street, as it appeared as if he was in nothing else but a void. Reaching up, he turned on the electric torch that was mounted to the top of the thermal mask as it shot out a sharp beam of light. The thermal mask worked hard to keep him warm, as at night the temperature dropped another 20 degrees centigrade. Mykola also hit a button mounted to his heavy coat, as suddenly he felt the chemical packets kept inside the coat begin to work a reaction to increase the warmth.

He looked back at _The Romanov_ , before shaking his head and headed out into the cold.

After all, he would be returning to the shithole tomorrow—and witness the whole planet become hell.


End file.
